


Totally Fucked

by Mrdogster



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Drinking, I love?? Dolokhov???, I was supposed to be studying lmao, Just let him have his cute boy, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Someone save this boi, yikes lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrdogster/pseuds/Mrdogster
Summary: Dolokhov thought that sharing a dorm room would with his best friend was one of his best decisions yet. BOY was he mistaken.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, it is I, garbo the garbageman, here to deliver the trash instead of take it away. I didn't intend for this to be so long but then I started writing and now here we are. Title from Spring Awakening because I'm actual trash. Anyway, comments and kudos welcome, :)

Dolokhov was fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

It should have been expected really. His feelings for Anatole were something he had long since come to terms with, something he’d become much better at hiding and moderating in the years he’d known him. But it was different now, because they were in college and they were rooming together. There would be no escape from him, and no matter how close they were before, there was no way it would measure up to how close they would be.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be around him. The problem was that he wanted to be around him too much. Anatole had this air about him, this kind of feeling that intoxicated everyone nearby. It pulled you in and teased and played until it was gone, and it left you wanting so much more. Being around that all the time can make you want to do things, thoughts that you barely entertain in the dark of the night, let alone in mid afternoon with sunlight streaming in through the blinds. And yet, here he was, stealing sideways glances at Anatole who was actually working on his paper for one of his classes. The sun was hitting him in just the right way, his face silhouetted against the darkness of the rest of the room, and if Fedya got up he could be right next to him and playing with his hair and-

“Get a grip Dolokhov”, he thought, shaking the thoughts from his head and trying to focus on the work sitting in his lap. For a moment, he could almost pretend that it was just him in the room, and that Anatole was off somewhere else. Maybe he could get some work done after all. He began to work, slowly but surely. Just as the words finally began to flow somewhat easily, Anatole sighed from across the room. Dolokhov looked up at him and the illusion broke. How could he just pretend. Anatole was right there.

Anatole was looking at him, hands behind his head. Even frustrated and tired he looked beautiful. He looked over at Fedya, who’d moved his stuff from his lap and was now sitting cross legged on his bed. There was no point in even attempting to get things done at this point, his mind could not be farther from schoolwork. Anatole shot him a lopsided smile, adorable and exhausted and Fedya was fucked.

“We should get out of this room for a bit sometime soon. This essay’s got me beat, I think I’ve earned a bit of a break,” he said, standing up and walking over to his bead. He flopped down on it dramatically, splaying himself across it. His shirt rode up and a sliver of his hip bone peeked out through the gap. Fedya quickly shifted his gaze towards the window, shooing away the thought and trying to pretend he hadn’t been staring at Anatole. The trees outside were turning such a shade of red that he was sure his face must be a perfect match.

“That sounds like a great idea, except that I have mountains of work I still need to do,” Dolokhov responded, turning back to Anatole, who had moved his head so that it was the only part of him angled at Fedya. He looked like he was frowning.

“Well it’s not going to be any fun without you there, there’d be no point in going out,” Anatole said, apparently with no idea that he was going to drive Fedya absolutely mad.

“You should go out with Hélène, you always seem to have a good time when you’re out with her,” Dolokhov suggested, “besides, it would give you an excuse to go visit the girls dorm.” He knew he would probably regret sending Anatole over there, seeing as later he would likely recount his exploits with whatever girl he picked up in painful detail, but it was the only way that he could be sure that Anatole would go. He needed to actually put a dent in the considerable amount of work he had to do. Anatole perked up at the mention of the girls dorm, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking towards the closet.

Anatole and Héléne had decided to go the the same school when they found out they’d both been accepted and the tuition was somewhat cheap, not that they needed it to be. It was almost the condition their parents gave them to go to college so far away: stay together or come closer to home. It was a good thing that they were so close, or else these next couple of years were going to be hell.

Fedya and Anatole had been set on rooming together in college since freshman year of high school. They applied to all the same schools, because “who wants to go somewhere where you know next to no one? It would just be easier if we stuck together Fedya.”

Fedya watched from his bed as Anatole rummaged through closet looking for a suitable jacket for the weather. It wasn’t really cold yet, just barely getting to the point where a light jacket was not enough. Anatole turned around with one of Fedya’s sweatshirts in his hand. He pulled it on and went looking for his shoes.

“I’m wearing your sweatshirt, hope you don’t mind,” he called from the floor, looking underneath the bed for his shoes.

Fedya swallowed. “No, of course not.” Anatole looked so good in his clothes. The only thing that would make him look better was if he was wearing less clothes-

“That’s enough of that,” he thought as he walked over to the desk across the room and picked up Anatole’s shoes from underneath. He walked over and gave them to Anatole who took them in relief.

“Oh, thanks. Okay, well I’ll see you later then,” Anatole said, heading for the door.

“Okay, grab some takeout or something on your way back,” he called at Anatole who was halfway out the door.

“Will do,” he called back, and then he was gone.

Fedya went back to his work both relieved and anxious. He really needed to get his thing for Anatole more under control because it was doing fuck-all for his grades at the moment. He sat back down, pulled his laptop back into his lap, and settled down to work.

* * * *  
Anatole came back around eight with Chinese food. Surprisingly he hadn’t had anything to drink while he was out. Usually he went out with his sister to bars to scope out women and place bets on who could probably take them home. They were pretty much each other’s perfect equal at the sport.

But this time it was just Anatole and the food, no smell of beer or wine or whatever drink he felt in the mood for. He tossed Fedya’s sweatshirt over to him after setting down the food. Fedya picked it up and moved it next to him. He’d done a sizable amount of work for five hours and was greatly looking forward to the reward of food. Anatole was already beginning to dig in.

“How was staying in?” He asked, eating the fried rice from the container with his fork.

“Productive. How was whatever you guys did?” Fedya responded.

“It was good. We just stayed in her room and watched a movie. Then we went out and walked for a bit before getting food. It was a nice break.”

They ate in silence for a while, enjoying having the other around. Before long they were done, and they returned to the companionable silence they had before Anatole had left. Fedya could survive this. He would have to survive this.

* * * *  
It was three am and Dolokhov had just finished one of the last readings he still had left from his textbook. His eyes were stinging and his back was sore from the way he was hunched over his book but he was finally done. Anatole lay on his own bed across the room, blissfully asleep. It’s a miracle that boy passes at all with the amount of work he doesn’t do in most of his classes. If Dolokhov really listened he could make out the faint, breathy snores floating through the air.

He laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what exactly he was going to do about his feelings. He could hide them well, sure, but that didn’t make it even the least bit easier to not feel them. He could try and ignore them completely, but he knew from experience that that never worked much at all. He could request a roommate change, but that would make Anatole suspicious and sad. He could even, god forbid, tell Anatole how he felt, but damn would that be awful. He honestly had no clue what to do now.

He grabbed at the mass of fabric next to him and pulled it to his face. God, his shirt even smelled like Anatole. Thoughts of having his face buried in Anatole’s shoulder crept into his mind and, Fedya was too tired to push them away. He inhaled the shirt and the thoughts changed to holding Anatole close, so close he could smell Anatole’s shampoo. And then things rapidly started to move downwards. His next thought was his hand on Anatole’s cheek, his fingers caressing his face until Anatole takes hold of them and guides them towards his mouth, slowly beginning to suck on them.

Fedya snaked a hand into his pants. He knew this was wrong. He knew this was very wrong. Anatole was sleeping right over there, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from slowly beginning to stroke his hardening cock. Stifling his shaky breaths with his sweatshirt, he kept going.

Now Anatole was kissing him, hard. A mouth on his neck and then below his jaw. Sucking and nipping as Fedya started to speed up. Anatole, his clothed body against Fedya’s, grinding together, hard and desperate and fast. Dolokhov couldn’t stop himself from letting out a sigh into the fabric, his breath getting more and more ragged, his hand faster and faster as he chased release. Anatole kissing him, Anatole touching him, Anatole all around him, engulfing him, Anatole, Anatole, oh fuck, Anatole-

And then Fedya was coming into his hand, white hot and perfect. He grabbed some tissues from his bag next to his bed and cleaned up, tossing them in his trashcan, stuffing them down a bit so they wouldn’t be seen from the top. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but that didn’t make the comedown any less enjoyable. Anatole still slept in his bed, breathy snores still softly making their way out.

Dolokhov fell asleep pretty easily after that, sweatshirt still next to him but at least it wasn’t over his face anymore. His last thought before he drifted off was whether Anatole might have done this before. Maybe when he was drunk or when Dolokhov had been back home for the weekend. It was unlikely, but in his half sleep, Fedya liked to think that Anatole had cum with his name on his lips at least a few times. It was a comforting in a way, and to it, he fell asleep.

****  
The next few days were no less exhausting. He’d been desperately trying to bring up his grades from last semester, and while they weren't bad, they could definitely be better. He was always worrying about his grades, since he was there on scholarship money and couldn't afford to lose it.

Anatole didn't have that problem. Anatole had money, he could afford to go to college with no aid. He probably wouldn't even be in debt once he was out, the bastard.

Dolokhov hadn't seen much of him the last couple of days, as he'd been at the library much of his available time. He just wasn't able to focus in his room, not with Anatole right there. He’d barely been able to look him in the eye the next morning. He felt… dirty, like Anatole could tell just by looking at him what he'd done. However, Anatole was, thankfully, completely oblivious to the night’s processions. Nothing had changed, but Fedya was avoiding him regardless.

The library was safe because Anatole had never come to the library to study. Dolokhov wasn't even sure Anatole knew where the library was, to be honest. It was perfect; no distractions to keep him from his work, and plenty of work to help him avoid distractions.

When Fedya had finally decided to go back to his room it was only a half hour or so till the library was supposed to close. He wasn’t exactly dreading it, dread was definitely the wrong word for the situation. It was more… apprehension. He was nervous to see Anatole. Nearly every time he’d been back this week had been while Anatole was sleeping or before Anatole came home.

He came into the room half expecting it to be empty. It didn’t really matter what day it was, Anatole would go out any night he felt like it. But instead of an empty room in front of him, there was Anatole, sitting on Dolokhov’s bed, looking up quickly as if he’d been caught doing something. Fedya looked at him suspiciously, looking around the room. Everything looked fine, but surely something must be wrong or Anatole wouldn’t have that look on his face

Anatole recovered quickly however, plastering on a smirk and standing, walking slowly and lazily towards the middle of the room.

“Welcome back Fedya. I thought I’d never see you again with how often you’ve been gone,” he teased, his hands in his pockets and his body only the slightest bit tense. Dolokhov walked in and dropped his bag on the floor next to his bed. Nothing was out of place, nothing moved or damaged. What could Anatole have been guilty of doing?

“I’ve had a lot of work,” Fedya responded, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He didn’t say that he was avoiding Anatole because he couldn’t work when he was around him. He didn’t say that being around him made him anxious and on edge. He didn’t say that not being around him was a necessary evil he had to endure so his grades would survive. He didn’t say any of these things, but god did he want to. He just wanted Anatole to understand for once.

Fedya turned back to him, leaning his back against the wall. They stared at each other for minute, a stalemate. Anatole wanted to know why Fedya had really been away so often. Fedya wanted to know why he looked so guilty when he’d walked in. Neither of them asked. The moment passed.

“Well I’m glad you’re back at least,” Anatole said, moving to his bed and laying back against the headboard. Dolokhov slipped off his shoes and laid down in his, deciding to pay attention to his phone rather than his first choice, that is, staring at Anatole in order to try and glean some information as to what he’d been doing. Well, that and the fact that the urge to stare at Anatole was ever-present at the back of his mind.

Every now and then he was able to sneak glances over towards Anatole, who was busy on his phone. He looked mildly angry, like he was concentrating intensely on the conversation he was having. Fedya zoned out after that, thinking about nothing really but always coming back to Anatole. Anatole who was right there. Anatole who was on his bed when he came in. Anatole who was doing god knows what while he was gone.

Before too long Fedya decided to go to bed because hours of studying did not really keep you awake and refreshed. He left the room and went to the bathrooms to shower before he slept. He let the water run down his back and briefly considered rubbing one out before he left. Ultimately he decided against it. He wasn’t really in the mood.

When he got back Anatole was laying on his side with his phone in his hand, straight faced. Fedya walked to his bed and got under the covers. Some nights it was really hard to sleep, but he felt like it would be easy tonight, mostly due to how much he’d been pushing himself lately. Exhaustion set in quickly, and he dropped off into a dreamless sleep.

The next day was less awkward between Anatole and him. They’d seen each other after classes, talked for a bit, acted like nothing had happened last night. Truthfully, nothing really did. It was just the secrets they were keeping that set them both on edge. They told each other everything- well, nearly everything. Anatole was as honest to Dolokhov as he possibly could be, sometimes painfully honest. Dolokhov was usually honest, save a few things here or there. Not knowing what the other person was thinking was uncomfortable, and something they both very much did not like. The easiness between them was falling away, being replaced by some strange tension, creeping slowly into their conversations and interactions.

Needless to say, Fedya avoided Anatole all the more. Being around him was becoming suffocating a whole other way.

On one night, Dolokhov was coming home from a bar he’d decided to go to alone. He wasn’t too drunk, and really he was just a bit more than tipsy. He had gone alone to a bar that he rarely went to unless he wanted to be alone, and now he had to walk, empty and sad, back through the quad to his dorm.

He’d been having a bad day and thought that maybe something to drink would make him feel a bit better. Instead he was just bitter, thinking about how he’d really had a bad week, a bad year, a bad life. He was full of “what if” and “maybes” and “why the fuck don’t you just tell him how you feel you piece of shit”. When he reached his room he almost didn’t hear the noise from just inside, too hung up in his own thoughts to really process it. He had his hand on the handle when he really decided to listen, and lo and behold, inside, the soft but distinguishable sounds of two people having sex.

This was just what he needed. It really was the end to a perfect night of misery. He left his hand fall and left out a big sigh before heading back down the stairs. He didn’t know where he was going to go really. It was- fuck- it was one in the morning and all his friends lived off campus. Where he couldn’t drive to. Because he’d decided to drink. He pulled out his phone and looked over his list of contacts.

He stopped on one and selecting it, pressing call before he could really think about it.

“Hey Fedya, what’s going on?” Hélène answered, sounding a little tired but not like she’d just woken up. “Good,” Fedya thought. “Wouldn’t want to be a burden.”

“Hey Hélène, I’m sorry to call you so late, I just,” his voice broke a little. “I just really need to talk to someone right now,” he finished.

“Where are you?” She responded. “Fedya, how much have you had to drink?”

“I’m on the steps of my dorm now, and I don’t know. Not enough,” he managed to laugh, sounding cold and miserable.

“I’m coming to get you, just sit tight for a little while,” she said before hanging up.

Dolokhov nodded even though the call was over and she wouldn’t have seen anyway. The sky was overcast and the sporadically placed lights were a poor substitute for the moon and stars. It was also colder than Fedya thought it would be, different than when he was lost in his thoughts on the way home or when he was moving. He couldn’t feel the cold then, but he could feel it now, creeping into the core of his body.

When Hélène finally showed up, her car parked not far from the entrance, Dolokhov was shivering something terrible. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to get warmer. Part of him thought he deserved it.

“Fedya, you’re freezing!” She exclaimed, ushering him towards the car. They didn’t talk on the way back to her dorm, just let the heat thaw Fedya’s frozen body. Once they’d made it to the building and into her room, Hélène finally broke the silence.

“What happened,” She said calmly, sitting down across from Fedya on the bed. He shrugged and she gave him a look. Eventually he sighed.

“I came back to my room after a really bad day to find Anatole having sex in our room,” he explained. Her face turned softer then.

“Oh Fedya, I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” Hélène pulled him close to her and gave him a hug. He responded with little hesitation. She had been the first to know that he was gay, and certainly the first to know about his feelings for Anatole. In a lot of ways, they were closer than him and Anatole were. He let himself shed some tears into her shoulder

“I just want him to understand, Hélène. I just want it all to go away so I wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore.” She started stroking his hair.

“Dolokhov, I know you work so hard to keep it all inside you, but just talk to him about it. I know my brother, and he won’t hold it against you. You just need to talk to him about it. I think he’ll be more receptive to it than you think.”

Dolokhov sniffled. “You really think so?” He asked.

“I know so,” she answered. They sat like that, silent, until Fedya’s breathing slowed and he fell asleep. She laid him down on her bed and pulled a blanket over him. She moved over to her roommate’s bed, which was thankfully empty, since her friend had gone out earlier that night, letting her know that she probably wouldn’t be back that night, punctuated with a wink. “Boys,” She thought before drifting off. “So blind to what’s in front of them.”

Dolokhov didn’t go to classes the next day. His bag was still in his room and he had a moderately sized hangover and he just really didn’t want to get up today. He loitered in Hélène’s room for a while till she kicked him out. He decided to walk around after that, going to some park or coffee shop or anywhere but where he was supposed to be. He didn’t want to go back. Not yet. He’d didn’t want to go back for a few more hours still.

It was the impending death of his phone that finally brought him back to his room. Anatole was supposed to be in class right now, but whether he actually decided to go today was a mystery in and of itself. He took a breath before going in.

Anatole was there, sitting on Fedya’s bed again, but this time he didn’t look like he’d been caught. This time he looked like he’d been startled, but relieved to see Dolokhov walking in. Fedya was tempted to walk right back out.

“Fedya,” Anatole sighed. He stood up but didn’t make any attempt to go near him. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

“Wonder why,” some dark part of Fedya supplied. He looked at Anatole. “Anatole,” he responded.

Anatole looked nervous. “You didn’t come home last night, I was worried.” Fedya almost snorted at the absurdity.

“Sure you were,” he said coldly. Anatole looked… confused?

“I was. Fedya, I was worried. Why don’t you believe me?”

“Oh no, I believe you. I’m sure you were thinking about me the whole time you were balls deep in whoever you brought home last night.”

Anatole at least had the decency to blush. “You did come home didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“I did. And then I left. Thought I should give you some privacy,” he practically spat. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t usually this defensive and bitter. It was like he couldn’t control it, the anger rising in his throat. He had no reason to be angry, not really. Anatole could fuck whoever he pleased. Fedya had no right to be jealous.

Anatole moved toward him. “Fedya, I had been drinking. I picked someone up and brought her home, so what?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter, it never mattered in the first place. I wasn’t home last night, big whoop, who gives a shit.” Dolokhov moved to his bed and picked up his bag, ready to leave right then and there. He walked quickly to the door, reaching out for the handle, but Anatole had his wrist before he could reach it.

“Fedya!” He shouted. Fedya turned slightly, just a little. They were so close together now. Anatole was looking down at him with fiercely, flicking a bit between Dolokhov’s eyes and his lips. He turned Fedya’s wrist over and gently stroked the inside of arm. “Fedya,” He whispered. They looked at each other for a moment, and it was like a dam broke.

They were kissing, hard and desperate and rough. It wasn’t the soft first kiss Fedya’d imagined but it was perfect in its own way. Anatole’s tongue found its way into Fedya’s mouth, deepening the kiss. Fedya could feel himself hardening in his pants, rolling his hips a little into Anatole’s their bodies pressed together. Anatole pulled back in a gasp, pushing his hips right back.

They moved backwards until they fell on the bed, Anatole pinning Dolokov’s hands above his head as his kissed him, grinding against each other, slowly. They both pulled back then, panting heavily, still moving in rhythm. Anatole looked him in his eyes then, speaking in seriousness and want.

“Fedya can I blow you?” Fedya’s eyes widened, shocked, before nodding vigorously, not trusting his voice. Anatole slid down his body, moving himself between Fedya’s legs which were half over the side. He ran his hands up his thighs, moving towards his destination slowly, teasing. When he reached Dolokhov’s waist he made quick work of undoing his belt and pulling down his pants so he was just staring at the very noticeable hard-on Fedya had though his boxers. He hesitated.

Slowly, he hooked his thumbs under the waistband and lowered them. Fedya’s cock sprung free, ready and waiting. Anatole looked at it with a small amount of reverence and a large amount of determination. He took Dolokhov in hand and began to stroke a little, snaking his own hand down to undo his own belt and slide it into his pants.

Fedya leaned his head back and groaned, throaty and deep. Anatole stopped moving then, taking a moment, before he placed his mouth around the head of Fedya’s cock. This made Fedya groan louder letting a little involuntary buck move into Anatole’s mouth. It was so hot and wet and in proper time, he couldn’t wait to fuck into it for real.

Anatole started to move down onto him, head bobbing as he picked up his pace, matching rhythm with his hand. Dolokhov gave in and let his hand bury itself in Anatole’s hair, gripping him somewhat roughly as he threw his head back further, panting. He wasn’t going to last long, not if Anatole kept up that speed.

“Anatole,” he choked out. “Fuck, Anatole I’m gonna cum.”

This made Anatole speed up even more, taking all of Fedya and sucking so hard and so much that it was all it took for Fedya to fall off the edge. He came into Anatole’s mouth and Anatole swallowed, eyes looking up at him from where he was kneeling on the floor.

Fedya relaxed a bit. Anatole was still pumping himself, apparently close from the way his breath caught and his hand moved. “Need some help with that?” Dolokhov offered.

Anatole looked at him and nodded, satnding up so that his cock was just below Dolokhov’s face. He took Anatole in hand and started stroking a slightly faster pace than he had been. Anatole swore under his breath and laced his fingers through his own hair. Fedya looked up at him.

“Cum for me Anatole,” Fedya said, and that was all it took before Anatole was spilling into his hand. Fedya looked him straight in the eyes and licked the cum off his fingers. Anatole looked down at him, still catching his breath.

They laid down next to each other for a while after, sharing kisses and being close to each other.

“Who were you with last night Anatole?” Fedya asked, no longer hesitant. Anatole answered.

“Natasha Rostova. I was drunk. I wanted you. Natasha wanted me. I settled.” Comfortable silence settled on them again for a minute, before Fedya asked another question.

“And what about that day that I came back from the library and you were on my bed. You looked like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t have.”

Anatole flushed. “I missed you Fedya. Your bed smelled like you. I just wanted to be around the smell of you for a while.” That was something Dolokhov could definitely understand. He kissed him then, a smile on his lips.

“Well I’m here now, and I think we both need to get some much needed rest after what happened last night. Real rest,” Fedya responded before draping an arm over Anatole and pulling him closer to him.

“Yes,” Anatole said smiling. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Oh yeah, Dolokhov was fucked alright. Fucked in the absolute best way possible.


End file.
